by L. T. Ryan
“What the hell’d you do to him?” the guy said.
A pool of blood surrounded the unconscious man’s head.
“Don’t worry,” Sean said. “He’s gonna have a bad headache, that’s all.” He stepped over the body and leaned back against the ladder. “Look at me. We’re gonna go up this ladder, me first while you kneel and face that wall. Then when we’re both at the top, we’re going to your truck and you’re gonna drive me to the camp.”
“Go to hell.”
Sean nodded. He let his arm drop and squeezed the trigger of his MP7. Three rounds exploded from the weapon and struck the unconscious man.
“Looks like a headache is the least of his concerns now.”
“Holy shit, man. You’re crazy.”
Sean shrugged. “Produce the keys.”
“He…he’s got ‘em”
“Then get ‘em.”
The guy reached down and pulled a keychain from the dead man’s pockets. He tossed them to Sean, then turned and vomited in the corner of the room.
Sean climbed the ladder backward. He verified the barn was empty except for Marley. The dog wagged his tail. Sean climbed the last few rungs and then got to his feet.
The man followed him up after a little prompting.
“That dog’s still alive?” the guy said.
“You shoot him?” Sean said.
“I wouldn’t do that. The other guy did.”
“Looks like I chose the right man then.”
They exited the barn, the guy a few paces in front of Sean. Marley limped along. Sean kept his head on a swivel, aware that someone could pop out from anywhere.
The burning pile of bodies was now a smoldering heap. He tried not to look at it as they passed. The smell was unavoidable, though. Despite the pain associated with losing his wife, he found comfort that she was gone and no longer suffering inside a fleshy tomb.
She had been in there, but she had no control.
“You’re gonna drive,” Sean said.
Putting the man behind the wheel of a two-ton pick-up was a risk. He could run them off the road into a tree, crash through a guardrail and try to sink them in the river they would pass, or create any number of accidents. Despite that, letting the guy ride shotgun would be worse. Sean would be distracted by the road, though less so without traffic. All the guy had to do was lunge toward him and he could gain control of a weapon or the wheel.
The two men headed opposite directions in front of the truck’s grill. Sean kept the MP7 aimed at the guy through open windows. He pulled his door open. They entered the cab at the same time. Marley climbed in and lay down at Sean’s feet.
“What’s your name?” Sean asked.
The guy cleared his throat. “Derrick.”
“Why are you running with these guys, Derrick?”
“What choice did I have? We knew shit was going down. The rest of the world didn’t, but we did.”
“So you’re preppers, then.”
Derrick shrugged. “Kinda, I guess. But I’m not saying this in the sense that we thought something would happen eventually. Phil had classified information that he showed us. It proved that the government did some nasty stuff. Man, I mean Geneva Convention violating stuff.”
“Doesn’t matter now, does it?”
Derrick glanced at him, paused and shook his head. “Guess not.”
“So how long have you been preparing?”
“I’d say four years now. Got two camps set up, plus a quarantine zone. That’s likely where they’ll put your wife and daughter.”
“The girl’s my daughter, but the woman is a friend. My wife’s best friend.”
“Where’s your wife?” Derrick asked.
Sean looked out his window. The grass bowed in unison as the wind swept toward them. The stiff breeze stirred up the smoldering ashes. A cloud of smoke and human remains that had been reduced to dust blew toward the truck.
“She was in that pile.”
“She was the one that the boy saw when they were here earlier then.”
Sean nodded. “I was in the house. Took out one of your guys. She took out the other three. The last guy, not the one who escaped, but the one I killed, he nearly took care of her. I finished her off.”
Derrick’s mouth dropped open an inch. He said nothing.
“Wasn’t easy.” Sean used his thumb and forefinger to clear the sweat from his brow. “Had to be done, though.”
Derrick nodded. “S’pose so.”
“Let’s get moving. You know how to get there, right?”
“Yeah, plus the GPS is programmed.”
Sean shifted in his seat. “What do I need you for then?”
Derrick didn’t look as though he had considered this. He stammered for a moment, then said, “I’ll help you if you let me live.”
“I’m sure you will, Derrick. Now drive.”
Thirty-Five
Marcus went into the forest hours ago and hadn’t returned. In a way, Turk was glad. The mood inside had lifted in the hours since he’d exiled his brother. He could sense a shift in himself, too. He no longer had to worry about Marcus doing something stupid and putting them all in danger.
Sooner or later the guy would have hurt or killed someone. Turk knew that, and when it happened, they’d all blame him for it. That was the kind of thing that could have led to his exile. More likely, he’d have been banished to his quarters.
A doubtful thought crossed his mind that maybe that was what he should have done to Marcus.
A hand fell on his shoulder and squeezed near his neck. He dropped his head to the side. His wife’s soft skin met his coarse cheek. He marveled at how well she smelled, even with the end of the world around the corner.
“You did the right thing,” Elana said.
“Did I?” Turk spun around in his chair to face her. “I sent my brother to his death.”
“He might make it out there on his own.”
“He’s a dumb ass. He ain’t gonna make it more than a few days. He’ll run into a pack of those damn things and they’ll tear him limb from limb.”
Elana’s eyes watered over. “Don’t think like that. I’m sure he’ll catch on with another group.”
“Another group? Did you just say ‘another group’?” Turk shook his head. “How many like us do you think are out there? Even the preppers out there, how many of them do you think got underground before they were exposed in some way? Yeah, I’m sure there are pockets around the world where exposure was limited. I doubt there’s anywhere it didn’t reach. Antarctica, probably. Northern Alaska and Canada, maybe. Here’s the truth, he ain’t making it to Antarctica. He can head south, but he won’t even make it to Georgia before someone gets a hold of him.”
“So, what, are you just going to sit here and question yourself for the next six weeks?”
Turk said nothing. He stared over her shoulder, watching the light flicker.
“I’ll leave you alone.”
He waited until she left the room and then he spun around in his chair. A slide of the mouse restored his main monitor. He pulled up the secure terminal and typed a message.
“Ryder, you there?”
There was no response.
Turk typed a ‘who’ command and saw Sean was connected. Turk repeated the question, again to no response.
He checked the camera feeds. Marcus had damaged two of the three cameras he knew about. Fortunately, he left the third alone. Either he forgot about it, or he planned on checking up through it. Turk found himself grateful that he didn’t share any information about the configuration of his solar power system and how his cabling was configured. Marcus could have done quite a bit of damage with nothing more than a shovel if he had that knowledge.
Turk cycled through the outside feeds, watching each long enough to scan the screen before moving on. Just as he was about to get up, he spotted Marcus stepping out of the woods.
“What’s he doing?” Turk muttered.
Marcus had no shirt
on. His hands were raised over his head. His right eye appeared to be swollen shut.
Turk leaned forward. There were men behind the trees.
Marcus continued forward, coming to a stop in front of one the camera he didn’t destroy. The man said something. The absence of sound made it hard to figure out what Marcus’s message was.
A thick hand appeared from behind Marcus. It hooked him around the jaw and pulled him back. Turk saw a man standing there, dressed in fatigues and wearing a hat. The man appeared to be yelling at Marcus. Turk shifted his gaze to his brother, who tried to scoot backward on his elbows. Marcus stared up at the man. His chest heaved rapidly.
Turk switched cameras. A few more men had come out from the cover of the woods. They brandished firearms. One said something and they all laughed.
Turk switched back.
Marcus was now on his knees. He looked scared. The guy behind him said something. Turk thought it was, “Smile for the damn camera.”
Marcus’s next words were obvious to Turk. “They gonna kill me, Turk.”
A minute passed. It felt like an hour. Turk watched as the man pulled a long serrated knife from a sheath. Before Turk could move, the man ripped the blade across Marcus’s neck. Blood coated the camera, darkening half the screen. The man kicked Marcus to the side, leaned forward, and said, “We’ll be back.”
Turk sat in shock. Condemning Marcus to death was one thing. Watching it happen was another. It disturbed him that the prevailing feeling was relief. Marcus was gone, finally, and Turk didn’t have to pull the trigger. That relief faded, though, as he realized that someone knew they were there.
A half-hour passed. Turk remained in his seat. He cycled through the remaining cameras covering the property. The men had retreated. How far, he wasn’t sure. He’d never taken the painstaking time to trench and secure wiring in resistant conduit further than the edges of the bunker. In retrospect, he wished he had.
The words of his father passed through his mind. “Wish in one hand, shit in the other. See which fills up first.”
He smiled at the image of his dad saying that to him at the age of eight or nine. In some ways, Marcus was the spitting image of their father. At least as far as looks were concerned. But that’s where the comparisons ended. Pops was a good man, always on the right side of the law.
Turk leaned forward at the sight of someone emerging from the woods. He couldn’t tell if they were male or female because of how they approached. Its shoulders were slumped and its head down.
Another appeared from a few feet away, then another. Turk stopped counting after fifteen appeared. They weren’t the men that had been out there earlier. Not even close. Turk had seen people like this up close. And calling them people was a stretch.
“Christ Almighty,” he said.
They bunched up, mid-way between the woods and the ground above the bunker. Some looked down, while others craned their necks and looked toward the sky. One turned in the direction of Marcus’s body. It broke free from the group. For a moment, at least. Another spotted the first, and joined it. Then a third, fourth, until all of them were heading toward Marcus.
Turk switched to that camera. The scene was something out of a nightmare. The camera angled upward, so the beings looked elongated and alien-like. Their hollow stares were present. He could see discoloration on all of them, despite the blood-stained and smudged camera.
They descended on Marcus like a pack of vultures. Turk looked away. He couldn’t handle seeing his brother ripped to pieces.
The door to the room opened.
“Don’t come in here,” he shouted.
“What?” Elana said. “Why?”
“Just trust me. Don’t come in here.” Turk swiveled around in his chair and reduced the window. He saw one of them tear his brother’s head off and leap away.
Anger welled inside him. He’d face these things before, he could do it again. He didn’t care if there were two dozen or so of them out there. He’d faced more than that in Nigeria.
Elana walked into the room. She took a step back when they made eye contact.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“They got him,” Turk said.
“What? Marcus? Who got him?”
“First some damn hillbilly rednecks. Then, those things.”
“What things? What rednecks?”
“I don’t know what he did, El. He got in trouble pretty damn quick though. And he led those guys here. Led them right to the property and even showed them the damn security camera. Shit. They know we’re here.”
“They can’t get in, though, right? And what things, Turk?”
Turk interlaced and locked his fingers behind his head. He leaned back and shouted inarticulately.
“You’re scaring me, Sweetie.”
He took a deep breath, exhaled through his nose. “The men left in a hurry. Maybe thirty minutes later, I saw something pass through the woods. It came out. More followed. Before I knew it, there were twenty or so out there, all huddled up. One found Marcus’s body. He couldn’t keep it a secret from the others. They…” He stopped, closed his eyes and searched for the best way to phrase it. “Marcus isn’t there anymore.”
Elena gasped as she brought her hand to her mouth. Perhaps she, too, was able to separate herself from the act of exiling Turk’s brother. It was surreal in a way, after all. But this, faced with the fact that he’d been murdered and then devoured, might be too much to bear.
“What can we do?” she asked.
Turk shrugged. “I’m not sure. I think this tells us three things. Those things are near. They can smell blood. And we’ve got another band of survivors who ain’t so friendly close by.”
Tears rolled down Elana’s cheeks.
“I’ve got to go out there,” Turk said.
“What?”
“They know we’re here. I’ve got to disassemble everything we have out there, then cut the security.”
“I thought the doors were sealed for weeks?”
Turk shook his head as he walked toward her. He placed his hands on her shoulder, tucked his chin an inch, and looked her in the eye. “Everything can be overridden by me. Simple as that.”
“But if you take out the cameras, we’ll have no way of knowing what’s going on.”
He nodded.
“Is that smart?”
He shook his head. “They’ll be back. And when they come back, they’re gonna destroy everything they can find. Worse, if they’re smart, they’ll follow the trail, which will lead them close enough to where they can figure out where we are.”
“But this place is impenetrable, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Look, don’t worry. I’m just being cautious. I’m gonna go out there and dismantle all but one. I think I can keep one active and it won’t hurt us.”
“You’re not going now, are you?”
“No. Tonight. I might bring one person along to spot for me.” He paused a moment. “Go back to Layla. I need to start preparing.”
He waited for his wife to leave. She crossed the room. The door slammed shut with a thud. Turk inhaled deeply, held it, and exhaled through his nose.
“Why was I so stupid,” he muttered.
He pulled up the server. Sean still hadn’t responded. Turk typed another message. “Location compromised. May need to evacuate. Make alternate plans. Do not come here until I give the okay.”
Turk leaned back in his chair. All of this was his fault. He’d considered building a holding cell, but hadn’t. Waste of space, he’d thought at the time. With the number of people he might need to house, he wanted every inch to be usable in the bunker. Because of that decision, he’d sent Marcus into the new world, and now trouble, perhaps rightfully so, had found him. But the others didn’t deserve it.
And that’s why, tonight, he wasn’t going out to disable the security feeds.
Turk planned to go hunting.
Thirty-Six
The draft followed the floor. Addison figured
that out quickly. She also determined that the room slanted downward, away from the walk outside her cell. So when she had lain down, she did so near the front of the cell. The breeze that passed was cool and calming. Everything else had her feeling unsure and panicked.
The men across from her ignored her. They had their own problems, she figured. As did everyone down here. No one spoke. A few cried. It seemed everyone had accepted that this was their fate in this shadow of a world they now inhabited.
A thump at the end of the hall indicated the door had opened. She listened for the sounds of footsteps. Muffled, they grew louder. She pressed the side of her face against the rusted iron bars and closed her left eye. Through her right, she saw a man escorting two females. Both were average height, although one looked young.
Addison’s cell was the only one that wasn’t full, so she had a feeling they’d be her new roommates. They couldn’t be any worse than Carla, especially at the end.
“Get back,” the man said, stopping in front of her cell.
Addison scooted back to the wall, avoiding the corner where she had urinated when she couldn’t hold it any longer.
The lock slid back. The door swung open on rusted hinges. The sound made the hair on her neck stand up. The young woman was pushed in first. The older one followed, pulling the first close to her and moving to the side opposite Addison.
Addison waited until the man locked the door and left. She introduced herself. “How did you end up here? The roadblock?”
“No,” the girl said. “We were —”
The woman wrapped her hand around the girl’s head and silenced her.
Addison looked toward the cell opposite hers. The three men sat on the floor staring at each other.
“It’s okay,” she said. “We’re all in the same boat. You don’t have to tell me what happened if you don’t feel comfortable. At least let me know your names.”
The girl looked back at the woman, who nodded. “That’s Barbara, and I’m Emma. We were separated from my father. Some men took us. I don’t know what happened to him, but there was a fire and bodies and…”